


Treasure Hunting

by Akuuni (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dirty Talk, Kinda, M/M, Male Lactation, Mpreg, Sexual Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, trophy wife, trophy wives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 14:10:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1350265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Akuuni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Treasure Hunting: A GHBTav fic.</p><p>Written to inspire Joe/666bot to help inspire him for a ghbtav pixel (and maybe a little more wink wink???)</p><p>Warnings: Rape/noncon</p><p>Other themes: Sexual slavery (kinda), trophy wives, mentioned mpreg, mentioned male lactation, mentioned Stockholm syndrome, dirty talk, you get the gist of it</p><p>I might be willing to take requests on my tumblr, gildedgossamer!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Treasure Hunting

You try your best to hide, you really do. But they find you, the highbloods always find what they want. You’re far enough from the village (but still close enough to hear the cries for help) that you thought you were safe, that no highblood would be looking this far out. You were wrong. One must’ve saw you flee, thought you were worth taking. You’re small and vulnerable, with big hips and a cute ass. Any highblood would be insane to pass up claiming you as theirs. To take you and wed you, make you heavy with their heirs.

And you curse being so attractive to them as on drags you from your hiding spot with a large hungry smile on his face, pants already getting tighter from his dominance over you, the thought of you being his. It’s terrifying. The power he has, how you can barely struggle against a single hand holding your head down as the other travels south, pulling your hips up and shredding your clothes like wet tissue paper, chortling as he sees your already wet nook. You cry out, sobbing desperately, but you don’t plea. You know he wouldn't stop. No highblood would, none would care about what a lowblood like you felt.

Especially not him. You recognize him, no lowblood wouldn't, the face of your oppression, these sick games. Some may think it an honor to be chosen by The Grand Highblood, a flattery to be good enough to carry the children of the most noble line. You dread to think that one day, after long enough living the pampered life of a highblood’s wife, long enough to develop Stockholm Syndrome, you might say those things. You might look back at yourself now and think you a naive child, foolish for resisting.

A life of luxury awaits you, but you would rather starve everyday than glut yourself in his castle, your soon to be prison. A part of you hates that you already know it’s hopeless. That your will is to weak to not eventually break to make way for his. But his taloned fingers distract you from your self-loathing, rubbing at your nook forcing moans out of you and giving you pleasure you don’t want. And then he shoves them in, large digits alternating between wiggling against your the inside of your nook to stretch you and thrusting in and out to make you wetter than you already are.  
When he’s done with his attempts to prepare you for what you’ll never be ready for, he spreads your ass and moves to hunches over you, as he whispers (or as close to a whisper as he can manage with his monstrous voice) all of the dirty, filthy things he wants to do with you.

"You’ll make such a motherfucking fine bitch. Look at these nice big child-bearing hips." He hisses, pinching them for emphasis. "Gonna fuck you until you’re so full of cum you feel like you’ll burst. Gonna fuck you and make you love every fucking minute of it. Gonna make you know you’re mine from now on, make you feel so good that you’ll be glad I got you. You’ll be my willing slut, oh yes you motherfucking will."

And you know it’s all true. That you can’t hope to outlast his will. So you just sit there and babble pitifully as he shoves into you, his bulge far too big for your little nook, but finding a way nonetheless. Your nook will be gaping and sore when he’s done. It’ll just be a testament to his ownership.

——  
The little thing quivers under you, shaking violently with each thrust, and it empowers you. Such a pretty little thing, and what luck you had to find him. A child from that rebellious motherfucker, probably sired from a one night stand. You think of the little insect as you pound into his descendent, hoping he watches with disdain from beyond. Your mouth waters from the idea of having the little bull under you all to yourself, subject to all the urges you never got to take out on the Summoner.

The messiahs must be pleased with you, to let you find this treasure here. You’ll have to offer them double the normal sacrifices next sermon. Maybe you’ll throw in a blueblood or two. But you have better things to focus on than how to thank your gods. Your new bitches’ nook is the tighest thing you’ve ever felt, and you take great pleasure in knowing it’s yours and yours alone. You’ll show him off, make all your lessers sick with envy. The fairest trophy wife in all the land. The jewel of your court.

And what wicked fucking pleasure his nook is. “Never felt any warmth like this, my little slut. Feels so fuckin fine. Could sit here all damn night and enjoy myself here. Got a fucking bitchtits miracle of a body here, and I can’t wait to dress you all nice and fancy, like a high class whore. Fuck, I can’t wait to see your breasts come in, I know a miracle like you will have them fuckin’ big.”

And whines and squirms at you words, and his already brown face flushing even more. It’s a look you hope to see many, many times. You concentrate hard on making sure he enjoys himself - not that his pleasure matters, but it’s all the more fun when they cum, when you get to see the shame on their face from having their body betray them. And eventually, their minds will too, lost in pampering and the proper hand, they begin to love you, to enjoy their new life.

You grind into him, enjoying him trying to restrict his moans so you don’t hear. His panting hungry for more, as your bulge twists inside him, and his fluids coat your thighs, letting you know that however much he’ll try to deny it - to both you and himself - that his body enjoys it. You hump into your new toy as slow as you try to restrain yourself, not wanting to scar your little bride too early. His panting more frantic, more frequent, you can feel him start to grind back into you, probably his body’s decision, not his, and you can tell he’ll cum soon.

You pick up your own pace groaning into his ear, as you start to fuck him earnest, your cock hitting the back of his nook, making him let out a startled, pathetic noise. But it does the trick for him none the less, lifting his hips up as he releases. You laugh like it’s the best joke you've ever heard, and he cries in full force. You lick at his shoulder, near where it meets his neck, and suck on it hard , before biting down, fulfilling part of what you need to claim him, and cumming at the same, time making the tradition complete. And he’ll be yours forever, and your ecstatic at the fact.

And you pick him up, cradling his pitiful form in your arms as you bandage your mark on him. “I’ll have to get you branded, so everyone knows you belong to me. You’re mine now, and every one should get their know on. One on your ass, another on one your thigh… it’ll be the most miraculous, wicked sight ever seen. Just you wait, my little prize. It’ll be the best motherfucking thing.”


End file.
